He crouches in the centre
Of a sparsely furnished room
Long-cracked leather, missing buttons
Stained with sun and life and food
With fine scratches on his shoulders
To reflect the life he’s led
When he dressed for television
Or he stood in for a bed
Marked by forty years of sitting
In the heart of family
Soaked with tears and piled with knitting
Crumbed with toast and splashed with tea
He attends upon our leisure
Calls to strangers to feel free
Take their ease upon the contours
Of our veteran settee
Month: April 2013
An unexpected question
You asked me what I wanted
Why I was being so nice
Forgive me, after thirteen years
I thought you knew the price
To tell the truth, I hate it
Helping’s not my thing
It’s just that I’ve an open face
That calls to all to cling
They trespass on my kindness
Assume it’s all for free
All fail to understand the things
That they must do for me
I deal with strangers swiftly
They never learn the score
It’s only friends that settle, thus
In place of greed for more
My balance tips to favour
Those worthy of my act
Demanding further efforts fill
Potential – tit for tat
Gaffe a-go-go
The fan who got my name wrong
While calling me a child
Intended paying compliments
But missed her mark (shot wide)
I smiled and kept my countenance
At unintended slight
And knew I’d pen some petty stance
At her expense tonight
A Stately Occasion
A corpse now lies attended byMendacity that birthed the lieAs all do scramble, keen to tieTheir face to footage scraping sky
The fly-by-knights who, Honour-boundHave bought their seats now stand aroundDelighted soon that undergroundAn aged foe will not be found
No shrine awaits such servant’s StateA figure all adored to hateWe’ll do without a passing plateFor mugs enough have cheered her fate
I’m off tomorrow, home to stayAvoiding such a special dayOccasion marking in my wayNo crowds nor crowns to wave away
On sofa, just the cat and meA radio for companyI’ll not be seen, nor none shall seeTo mourn my past, her legacy
The Bathtub Pirates
I grew up in the summertimeSurrounded by the spoils of warWe hunted acorns, played at crimeAnd watched the adults rig our score
Competing in a healthy senseWith shared experience and choresAll piled up rocks to mend the fenceTook turns to go from ours to yours
I learned to work an Epi-penSo Emily could come to teaWith lesser risk she’d choke uponWhat passed for pranks in company
While grownups talked of higher thingsOf Arts and Culture, grapes and wrathWe built a fortress, swung on swingsAnd sank our pirate ship – the bath
As water rose to muddy kneesThe hearty pirates gave a shoutAnd splashing round in pants and teesWe bailed the bathroom inside out
Though life was hardly always funWe made a joke of PhysicistWhose atom-splitting famous chumMiscalculated bigger things
And challenged to a duel of sortsTo prove we were such clever dicksTwo minds con CERN did turn their thoughtsTo problem setting cryptic tricks
The mighty sometimes need to fallTo make room for a counterpartWe kids did outperform them allAs was intended from the start
My sister won the treasure trailThe baby always did, you seeAnd chose a favour from the haulTo be the queen ’til half-past three
To coax ill humour to good moodAvoid a third and bloody fightSo none would win and none could loseA prize was found for all that night
And settled in the shade to gloatWe gulped Anne’s Grenadine and spatThen Alex saw a spotted coatSo off we ran to find the cat
We came upon a curious sceneFor kitty’d found a frog to patThus rescued for our pirate queenWe bore our mascot back and sat
Beside the pond to see if heWas well enough to take a swimJoanna, dared by EmilyTo kiss him, squealed as frog plopped in
Escaping all experimentWe gave the frog-prince lost at lastAnd comforted by this eventTo fairytales and bed did pass
Farewell Iron Lady
A woman we were taught as children
Was to change the world today
Has palmed us off with chains of power
Dropped her Balls and gone away
A nation stares in disbelief
The Beeb reacts with scant few lines
That multiply to meet demand
Auto-refresh on overtime
There will be drink that flows tonight
As some rejoice and some despair
The grocer’s daughter’s oversight
That closed the mines and sold the poor
Such lines as Iron Lady stood
For character, caricature
Entitled by the great and good
To whip things up and milk for more
A battleship in pussy bow
She stood her ground from thick to thin
Prime target for the satirists
Whose spitting image kept her in
What mindful public audience
That gather now for funeral cheer
Some come to cry, to jump, to dance
The Lady’s burning time draws near
Cherry Conserves
Ding, dong, the bells rang out
And sirens wailed as cars sped by
With MPs anxious all to spout
Proud eulogies to she whose dying
Broke the mould that shaped this land
A Britain blitzed and bristling
Tenacious hold of ringed hand
Conducting as her choirs sing
But praises in her final hour
When all about her’d scoffed in doubt
A woman might ascend to power
To rule their classes, well-endowed
Through echelons of history
Such ilk, ill-favoured (and less-liked)
Set braver face than enemy
And damned the rest to build a dyke
For old and loyal as they’d seem
Support has grown in recent years
The bad old days are here again
No sum may yet assuage our fears
What party rages through the night
As shades and lines are thinly drawn
All hail the dying of the light!
Now bow before the bitter dawn
Numerical Rumination
Fifty three a week, you say?
Now thirteen’s hit at number ten
As eighty-seven fades away
And decimals are moved again
To pivot on a sliding scale
Up, rise in uniformity
Reduced in stature, pity-pale
But equal to totality
Fishing for Mister Chips
Some always slip through the net, it’s true
We try to dissuade them, with warning glances
Terrible teachings and shoulder chips too
Yet they look for their plaice in the world, take chances
And fall for the hook, a line not intended
To catch such minnows, keen though they wriggle
But tempt floury flounder, a proper five pounder
With pedigree fin-flop and scales well-landed
A gentleman filleted almost from spawning
Too easy, compliant and well-bred for yawning
When skinny fish sizzle, the dull never grizzle
For schooled in his duty, the fat fish stays snooty
And floats on the current, just goes with the flow
Content not to question the things he should know
The minnow is left to the rock-pool and stream
Abandoned, unwanted, to struggle and dream
The Dragoness
Tongue tied in the face of such total denial
Unsure what to say as she squirms to fit in
Contorting the truth ’til it matches desire
She wriggles and struggles to conquer our whim
The pile ever growing, her hoard has been threatened
Not ev’ry dear item surviving the cull
Our backs strained and suffered, this one is the seventh
We’ve moved her rag fact’ry from Burnley to Hull
We stand here, an army of moral supporters
Poke holes in each argument, watering wails
That presage the tantrum still bubbling under
With glimpses of brimstone and manicured nails
I’ve gathered my forces, reluctant acceptance
Complying with wishes, she feigns every mood
And snatches at fav’rites we’d bagged, boxed and bundled
But left unattended while loading the boot